You're the Queen - Now What? [CK2ish Character-Focused Quest]

"Dontar, take these letters to our couriers, I want our people following up on the markets in the towns near the Thornmarch as soon as possible." Rykall ordered, thrusting a stack of sealed envelopes at his much put-upon aide. "And then find someone from Keeper Rucdorn's staff and get me the first hour he has free, I want to coordinate with his collectors about some reports I've got from Mellock's Hollow."

"Uhm, yes, yes, of course," Dontar blinked repeatedly, nodding. He reached into a pocket and pulled out an envelope, "This came in from our people up near Eaglecrest, it appears that things weren't quite what we were hoping for..."

"What I'm hoping for is to keep the kingdom afloat, and so far, we're doing that. Yes, more revenues would be nice, but it's better to have all the information correct." Rykall accepted the letter, then raised his voice, agitation and nervous energy obvious on his face, his tone as he spoke quickly, "And I need someone to get me the tax assessments for Eaglecrest from five years ago and ten years ago, I need to check something!"

Another clerk from somewhere nearby shouted in the affirmative, and scurried off to sea to that.

Rykall pulled his spectacles off his face, then blinked at Dontar. "Why are you still here?" He made a shooing gesture. "Get those letters sent and get me my meeting with Rucdorn and then have yourself some lunch. I'm the only one who gets to overwork themselves." He chuckled as he said that, watching Dontar leave and then pinching the bridge of his nose.

There were just too many things to assess, too many things to track... and the clerks were still reorganizing following the chaos of the war. And he was doing his best to take on all the slack, but he wasn't sure how much he was actually doing. He sipped at his berry tea, giving himself at least that long to pause and breathe.

I'll need to have some people check my work, and then try to actually get more sleep.

But there was so much to do!

---

"A new player in the game," Jacoris Nolst noted, looking at the reports his agents in the capital city were giving him. A pair of small companies - White Horse Trading Company and Carvol & Sons - had found themselves some silent partners, and were now looking flush with cash, and ready to join in the speculation on materials for the roads.

Ever since the war had ended, Nolst had had his people quietly buying up gravel, deeds to quarries, quality timber to be seasoned, had smiths working up the tools needed for rebuilding the roads, and more. He hadn't been the only one, of course, and there was a certain amount of care needed.

Sooner or later, the new Queen was going to start rebuilding the roads. But when she did, she was going to have to buy from him, among others. And he was going to make a killing. But only if he didn't buy too much, at too high a price.

Nolst had been left holding the back at the end of a bidding war, which was basically what this was. It was expensive. There was only so high you could charge, or else Lady Balmain - no idiot, her - would start looking further afield, importing the materials from further away, because the cost of transport would still be less than the prices demanded.

And then you'd be stuck losing all the money you spent.

I would have expected to hear the Crown inquiring about prices by now. Her Majesty Vanessa may have only been Queen for two months now, but still. That was enough time. But there was so much else that needed to be done, so perhaps it would be a few months before she even started...

And meanwhile, Nolst was sitting on a pile of timber and gravel and not a lot of money. Maybe he could let these late comers take on some of the risk for him...

I wouldn't be able to mark the price up as much, since they'll know that Lady Balmain has a limit as much as I do, but I could still make a profit...

Decisions. Decisions.

---

"High Marshall, you wanted to see me?" Captain Gervost asked as she stood in front of the High Marshall, hands clasped behind her back.

"I did indeed." Rienne confirmed, standing up from her desk. "I'm going to need an explanation."

"For... for what?" Gervost asked, blinking, confusion writ across her face, her voice raised at the end of her question.

"These," Rienne slammed a pair of broadsheets down on the desk. Every printer worth their salt put out a broadsheet, usually packed with advertisements, news and whatever else the printer thought was relevant, sold for cheap, or handed out. They were a central medium of communication, and Rienne had no issue with them.

Except when people were using them to spread treason and sedition.

These were no normal broadsheets. No advertisements. No printer's mark at the base, signifying who put them out. Just screeds calling the Queen a 'bastard traitor and affront to Halrun' a 'foreign whore in service to a city nearly as dark as the Empire that once ruled it' and things that got worse from there. In and of themselves, nothing particularly remarkable. Such insult to the Crown was against the law - criticizing the Queen was legal, to an extent, but this crossed well beyond the pale. Especially the crude woodcut depicting the Queen being 'shown her proper place' by what Rienne was pretty sure was supposed to be a somehow resurrected Syrokis.

Because somehow such magic would of course be possible.

But, illegal or not, it was generally practical and counterproductive, according to Keeper Grosdan and General Trins, among others, to try and actively hunt down these broadsheets too much, or round up everyone who had one, or read one. Keep your eyes out, arrest those that fell in your lap, but forcing people to be even more quiet about their opinions tended to just make them go from talk to action.

Still.

They were illegal, and Rienne was not letting the woman in charge of one of the gates of the capital city keep her position when she kept this shit in her quarters.

Rienne hardly thought Vanessa was perfect. She wouldn't even call the Queen a friend - hard to do that with a Queen anyway, of course - but she respected the woman, and was loyal to her. And grateful, Rienne had to admit. She wouldn't say her morality was for sale, but Vanessa was, so far, a good woman, if perhaps a little short-tempered and perhaps a little avaricious, based on what she'd seen, but given the state of the treasury, avariciousness was not a bad idea right now.

And her morality wasn't for sale, but her loyalty had been for much of her adult life. Admittedly, it was a bit of an adjustment, to have a permanent position like this, or at least somewhat permanent, and of course, even once she stopped being High Marshall, she had estates to return to, a title, a permanent place to call home...

It offended her morally, politically and professionally that Captain Gervost possessed these broadsheets.

Gervost looked at the sheets and Rienne had to give her credit for her ability to pretend. "These... appear to be broadsheets attacking the Queen?"

"They were found in your quarters." Rienne leaned forward and grabbed Gervost around the throat, "Word of advice, Gervost. Underneath your bed is not a great place to hide something." With her free hand, she reached for the front of Gervost's armor and ripped off the yellow and black ribbon that signified her rank off. Then she let go of Gervost and shoved her back, gesturing to the two soldiers standing by the door. "Remove her weapons and armor, and take her to Thartax Prison."

Gervost tried to throw the soldiers off her as they grabbed her arms, and one went for her sword belt, with the other started undoing the straps of her armor.

"That baseborn foreign bitch is an insult to Halrun! All of you are scum! Long Live Brunn The Second!" Gervost snarled, ripping her arms free of the soldiers, her breastplate half-undone, and she launched herself at Rienne.

Or tried to, anyway. Rienne had her sword drawn, and at the last moment, held it out in front of her, and Gervost nearly impaled herself on it - as it was, the sword slipped under her armor and cut into her side.

"I had a bet with General Trins that you'd try to keep pretending you were innocent. I guess I'm out a few pieces of silver."

---

The lieutenant in the Quartermaster Corps made a notation on the requisition order in front of him, and called for one of his subordinates to load a dozen barrels of twice-baked bread onto the Wagon in Stall 4.

Then he wrote several numbers and words down on a separate piece of paper.

He honestly wasn't sure how much help to merchants bidding for supply contracts the information he was sending them was. But he knew that the representative of an unnamed company that had approached him at the gambling house two weeks ago would pay for this information. And that was what mattered.

True, he'd considered the possibility that the man was a foreign spy, but really, what could a spy do with information about army food shipments? Information that would be weeks out of date by the time it got to another country anyway.

Besides, the man was clearly Morvakian, anyway. The lieutenant wasn't one to consort with foreigners, after all!

---

"Ladies, gentlemen, allow me to introduce the newest of my serving staff," General Vaenia gestured to the gorgeous, half-naked woman who had just entered into the room, carrying a tray of wine glasses. "Remember, no touching her below the waist without paying," she chuckled.

The assembled nobles and officers who came to General Vaenia's estate to play a high-stakes game of Varaday Four Draw(1) all laughed. One of the many draws of the General's estate were the attractive staff, male and female, that she hired to serve drinks and food and otherwise... attend to her players. All of them were hired with full awareness of what was expected of them, and paid handsomely for it.

The night was, of course, a stirring success for everyone, and the newest servant returned her small quarters at the end of the night, pulling the cord holding her hair in a ponytail out and letting it fall around her shoulders, letting out a long, exasperated sigh.

The things I'm willing to do for Halrun. She pulled a small iron key that she'd lifted off a 'friendly' young cavalry captain - the man had been quite handsome, and not even that boorish compared to the sorts of men she'd known back in the days she'd actually worked in a brothel, but she felt no compunction about borrowing his key. If her handler was correct, this key would allow someone - not her, she was staying here at the General's estate - to get into several very interesting rooms in Malrend Castle, the heart of Morvak's military. She pressed the key into wax, hiding the wax in a compartment hidden inside the lid of her small footlocker, and then departed her quarters a short time later.

The young captain had been such a charming young man after all, and had promised to be quite generous if she dropped by his quarters tonight....

And she couldn't have him wondering where his key went when he was sober tomorrow, now could she?

---

"And That, is That," Balmain said setting down her quill.

Lord Restilar, one of her close friends, allies and an official within the Sheriffs and Reeves took the parchments she'd written on and looked over them.

"Quite an impressive collation of the data into a plan." He looked at the next page. "Indexed contingencies... your tutors must be impressed, Balmain." He chuckled.

"I'm pretty sure they had aspirations of me becoming a philosopher. Something of a progressive counterpart to that odious twat Zariel Blosk. Thank the gods she didn't get the Blosk estates." Balmain chuckled.

"I told you Vanessa was a good choice." Restilar chuckled, picking up his cup and taking a sip of the well-watered wine within. "And you were all set to press hard for Bladewit."

"Well, I think Bladewit would have been quite a capable Queen in her own right, and the appearances of raising such a baseborn guttersnipe would have been quite beneficial to our cause." Balmain countered. "And unlike Vanessa, Girra would have been far easier to talk around, since Vallefor probably would have burst a blood vessel if she got crowned." Balmain reached for her own glass and sipped slowly, thinking for a long moment.

"But Vanessa has proven to be a clever and capable woman, and hardly objectionable to serve under, so far. Her choice to get Rienne Novash to serve as High Marshall was inspired." Balmain added. "I hear she's doing a remarkable job clearing some of the remaining deadwood out of the officer corps."

"To the point where some of my friends are complaining about it," Restilar agreed. "If their relatives can't be at least halfway competent and avoid corruption, then they really have no place in the army."

"Agreed," Balmain nodded. "There's a place for sinecures, but not in the Army. Not as long as Morvak is still lurking there at the border." She bit her lip. "I wish I could be more annoyed that Vallefor was the one keeping an eye on him, but he's proving to be as annoyingly competent at this as he was at marshaling his forces during the war."

"Give it time. There's a reason no one likes Vallefor. Sooner or later he'll piss the Queen off enough that she'll remove him from the Inner Council." Restilar laughed.

"I'm not quite so sure. I've no doubt he looks down on her, but he seems to be willing to be respectful to her face, and his work with the Selissan banks was extraordinarily helpful in getting some of our debts repaid." Balmain sighed. "It was only 45 Dureks, but with the interest staking up like it is, that 45 wasn't nothing." She shook her head. "I don't think Vallefor is going to get himself removed anytime soon."

"Well, this plan for the roads will help remind the Queen that you're just as essential as he is." Restilar gestured back to the papers in his hands. "Once we get the materials, we could get the roads around the capital and the Grand Duchy rebuilt in a few months. And if anything goes wrong, we've got a dozen contingencies and backup plans. I think we're all set. And from what I hear, Axecavern has the front companies set up. So it's just a matter of time and we can actually get trade flowing again."

---

Inheritance disputes could either be incredibly easy, or very difficult, from everything Itrick knew and had experienced. He personally tried to avoid such things, finding them distasteful and as likely to be full of grasping avarice as a genuine search for just disposition of the deceased's assets, but he had taken the position of Keeper of Justice when offered knowing this sort of thing would come up.

They could be easy because often, the law was quite clear about who should inherit - children first, by age, unless disqualified from inheritance or otherwise removed from succession. After children, you could check with siblings, then children of said siblings, and so forth.

In essence, it was a matter of of going through the family tree, and every time you ran out of people, go back one step and find the next suitable candidate.

In theory, that meant it was always simple to find the right heir of a title.

Unfortunately, once you got past first cousins, it became more complicated, as people could have claims through multiple lines of inheritance at times, and you had to judge how they all came together and added up. Because, technically, under the law, two weaker claims on both sides of someone's heritage could - depending on the specifics - outweigh one one stronger claim.

But the laws were complicated, and of course, family trees just as much so.

Countess Gramaire had had no children, save for her child by Syrokis, but she was attainted and so was her child anyway. She'd had two siblings, a younger brother and an older sister, but the sister had died under 'mysterious' circumstances a few months before the elderly prior Count had passed after a long battle with gout and associated heart problems. The younger brother had been carted off for treason at the start of the civil war, after years of attempts on his life by 'parties unknown'.

The consensus by virtually everyone is that Gramaire had finally gotten tired of her assassins failing to kill her little brother.

So back up the chain on went, except that Gramire's father had had no siblings, and his own mother had also had no siblings (highly unusual as far as these things went, in Halrun) which left the inheritance tracing back to family trees that connected through marriages and sometimes even affairs that went back to before Halrun existed in most cases.

Itrick rapped his staff down on the floor repeatedly, the sound of it magnified by a quick spell.

"I have heard all your claims, both on the legal merits of your claim, and the qualities or lackthereof of your rivals."

He looked over the assembled claimants. Four in total, all with multiple claims to the County, all of whom could make a clear case in the law, as written, that they had the best claim. And Itrick was left trying to pick through it all.

I agreed to this job for a reason. This wasn't the reason, but it's the price I pay.

The first candidate was Vaelan Mokkar, an old soldier who had mustered out of the Royal Army a bare year before the civil war started. He's stayed out of the war, citing his age and a desire to spend more time with his children and grandchildren, though his rivals claimed he had harbored secret pro-Syrokis sentiments. Itrick had questioned him under magic and Vaelan had claimed he was not harboring any such sentiments now, and that he had no issue with the Queen.

Not a stirrings statement of support, but pretty common, in Itrick's experience thus far. He had truthfully sworn loyalty, at least, as all the claimants had. Vaelan had risen to the rank of Colonel and was by all accounts a very skilled teacher, having trained soldiers and officers for most of his army career as his primary focus. A grizzled, bitter and unfriendly sort of man to most people, he had a claim to the County through his grandfathers (maternal and paternal) and grandmother (maternal), all connecting back through five generations to the precursor titles of the Counts of Aloce.

Vaelan seemed a poor fit for a position as high as a Count in many ways, as he clearly had little patience for the pomp and circumstance of the position or his noble status in general but he firmly believed that since the County was his by right it was incumbent on him to hold the title for his children and grandchildren. Vaelan appeared to be as apolitical as a man in his position could be.

The next candidate was Cesla Corvosti, who was Halrunian by birth and heritage, but had spent most of her life outside of the Kingdom, her mother's family all well connected 'nobles' in Varaday and neighboring realms. She was previously a banker by profession, and a historian by interest and by all accounts ruthless in both fields (according to a friend of his, her acid pen deployed against historians with different interpretations than her was legendary in some circles), but she had both helped finance the rebellion out of her own pockets, being a progressive politically, and helped Keeper Rucdorn negotiate the deal the Syrokis's former creditors that got them to accept the reduced debt total deal.

Cesla was a mother of two, presently between wives (Itrick personally found the habits of some wealthy elites to divorce their spouse every five years or so and marry a younger one to be repugnant at best, but there was no law against it, and Itrick couldn't let it color his decisions) and believed that her claim to the County - five total claims all through her father's side of the family, the most recent going back seven generations but all in very good standing, legally. Her claim was benefitted legally by the fact that some of Gramaire's own legal papers seemed to have suggested she was going to name Cesla as her heir legal until she had a child, but the war and then Brunn Jr's birth had put a stop to that. It indicated, at least, that Gramaire had seen Cesla as the candidate with the best claim.

Cesla had spoken at length of her desire to modernize the County, and modernize the County's relationship with the Crown. Itrick had tried to keep her focused on the legalities of the matter, but none of the candidates save Vaelan really had, and even Vaelan had launched attacks on the personal character of the other candidates.

Itrick did want to pick who the best person for the County was, but he did have to be guided by the principles of the law as well.

The third candidate was another progressive, Ser Frederick Mandoris. He was the only candidate to the County who had previously lived there, having been a Knight and Castellan (not that he'd managed an actual castle, just a manor house) for Countess Gramaire. One of his claims was the closest - only going back four generations - but that one was out of wedlock, which tainted it, a little. But his great grandmother had been a cadet cousin of the main line of the County's ruling family in the first place when she'd had the bastard child that was Frederick's grandfather, and so he had the claims through that. Though according to some records - there was dispute in the available information - Frederick's great grandmother's own cadet branch had started from a bastard to begin with. It was hard to say if all the old letters and family genealogies he'd been shown were accurate, and which one.

His magic couldn't force a piece of paper to tell the truth, after all.

Frederick had, as a Knight sworn to Countess Gramaire, rallied to her banner when she called her retainers and levies once Eaglecrest raised a banner of rebellion, and, like General Trins, fought in the capture of Eaglecrest. But, like General Trins, the treatment of the city's population turned him against Syrokis - and the fact that Gramaire's younger brother had been carted off for what Frederick knew were false charges of treason was the last straw. Around the same time as Trins, he too had defected to the rebellion. During his time in the war, Frederick had been swayed by the arguments of many progressive nobles, and had recently married a woman named Anaris, who was the owner of several prosperous clothier workshops in various cities in the Kingdom. Itrick got the impression that Anaris was the brighter and more ambitious of the pair, but Frederick was a good-hearted and well intentioned enough man, from what Itrick could tell.

The last candidate, Verenna Relund, was conservative, and another of Vallefor Trovus's many cousins, albeit on the non-County-claimant side of his family (which was good for Verenna's claim, as legally no one noble could hold two Counties, so if she was to have been made a Countess, she'd have had to legally renounce any claim to Vannecht Count, had she had one). Verenna was, compared to her Cousin, or many other conservatives, a lot less obsessed with noble rights, and more with noblesse oblige, to borrow a concept from the Tamilkirk Imperium, albeit it was neither spelled or sounded like that in the original Tamilkirk. She very much believed that nobles were elevated above commoners, that their blood was essential for their status, but she also took very seriously the obligations of a noble to their people.

While not a holder of a Lordship, she did have lands with tenants and a few small villages under her authority, on lands belonging to her elder half-brother (who was a Lord), and she provided extensive poor aid, paid of her own pocket to treat the sick among her tenants, and was generous with extensions on rent if someone needed it.

Her claim, through her mother who had inherited a number of claims from both sides of her family, as well as a distant secondary claim through her father. Nothing that actually meant much on it's own, but it did enhance her claim.

"I have considered all of your claims, legal and otherwise," he continued, and looked at all four of them, "and I have decided that the laws of Halrun best support..."

[ ][ALOCE] Vaelan Mokkar, the gruff old soldier without patience
[ ][ALOCE] Cesla Corvosti, the banker and modernizer with a ruthless street
[ ][ALOCE] Sir Frederick Mandoris, the defecting Knight with a merchant wife
[ ][ALOCE] Verenna Relund, Vallefor's cousin and conservative with a heart of gold

---

"That fills the missions to Rokrin and Syleria." Arandel noted. "That still leaves us with a representative to Illesor - hard to call it an Ambassador when the island's government is entirely a theoretical notion these days, but someone has to speak to the factions there on our behalf, and the Kingdom of The Necromancers."

Arandel looked at his desk. "I somehow think the volunteers will be thin on the ground for both."

"Moreso Illesor," Arandel's secretary noted. She looked through the papers in her hand and pulled out a list, as well as several sealed letters. "There's a merchant who exports grain into Darkmoon Forest who would be interested in the position, and the Thane of South Tarkos claims that his niece is interested as well, something about her fascination with death and the undead."

"I'm fairly certain Thane Geldreck is just trying to get rid of his niece because she's something of a mild embarrassment to him." Arandel noted. "But she is a mage of minor talent, and they respect mages more in Darkmoon Forest, given that all the nobles have to be necromancers to rule. And her embarrassments in the form of divorcing her husband and being seen in the company of elven gigolos is hardly going to be a problem in Darkmoon Forest." Arandel tapped his finger to his chin. "Send a letter to Thane Geldreck's niece. I want to see if she is willing, and I also want to make sure she's actually capable of the job. I've heard she's a clever woman, but I'd like to see firsthand."

"I'll invite her to meet with you at her earliest convenience."

---

Vanessa poured the water into the polished trade, made from the purest silver. It had been a gift from Cyril, after completing her apprenticeship. Scrying could be done with any number of tools, but Vanessa preferred this tray, with water, distilled as much as possible to remove impurities. She'd made some alchemist somewhere in the city fairly well off by purchasing quite a bit of it since becoming Queen, though this was the first time she'd had the chance to do important scrying with it.

She was alone in her quarters, having made sure the Royal Guard and her personal attendants knew to leave her alone until she called for them, or she literally started screaming for help. Distraction while scrying was never helpful, especially when you were scrying for something a little vague.

When scrying the past, present and near future, places far and distant, for something specific, you tended to get very clear and specific information. When scrying for something more vague, like 'who is interested in marrying Queen Vanessa Kolmain and who is available that would be of interest to Halrun outside of candidates I already know of', you tended to get things that were... a little more vague.

Nerinthar, Selissa and Illegorst were known enough quantities. But further afield, who and what were the options?

Vanessa closed her eyes and held her hand over the tray, chanting, channeling her magic through herself and into the water.

Vague questions produced vague answers, yes, but Vanessa was highly skilled at divination and scrying. She felt the tides of magic push at her, trying to resist her command, her will, the natural laws of reality that said water was just water, that time could not be turned back and watched, nor turned forward and watched, fought against her, but she pushed through them, past them, bringing time and place distant from her expansive chambers in the Royal Palace in Eridia to the room with her, captured on the tray.

She saw a woman, dark skin, long black hair, wearing black, weaving magic around her hand. She saw skeletons on the march, she saw a man pale with death, a crown inlaid with onyx and obsidian, his person decorated with skull imagery, speaking to the woman. She saw the woman eying a portrait of her thoughtfully, though Vanessa hadn't yet sat for any portraits, sipping on a glass of blood-red wine. She saw the woman setting out, leaving tall, dark forests, blinking against sunlight and she saw armored figures arrayed behind and before her, light and shadow warring around her. She saw black tendrils spreading out, and she saw gleaming roads rebuilt all across Halrun.


The image shifted and she saw a tall and strong man with brown hair and brown beard, a crown riven in two, half of it on his head, half on the head of another man that he fought. She saw him fighting side by side with ranks of faceless soldiers, but constantly keeping one eye on his allies. She saw him searching, looking desperately for a light. And she saw a tattered, burning flag overlaying the whole vision, a flag she recognized. She saw the man holding court in a dimly lit room she knew had just been fought over. She saw him argue with a sneering man holding a bag of gold in one hand and a knife in the other, offering both.


Once more, the image shifted, revealing another woman. This one was fighting, her red braid flying in the wind behind her as she fought on an open field, hacking down enemies that surrounded her, her foes intent on stabbing her back, but some who surrounded her seemed to be her own side. She saw the woman driving her sword into a map on a table, arguing with soldiers twice her age. She saw her arguing with a bald man with a red mustache, sitting slouched in a throne decorated in red and brown. She saw the woman paint two pictures - a rich man counting his coin as his house burned down around him, and the same rich man with less coin before him, but an intact home decorated with the richest and finest luxuries.


Vanessa felt the force of her magic slam her back against her chair and she was breathing heavily. She hadn't gotten specifics, hadn't heard conversations, or gotten anything truly clear, but she could guess who she was seeing, from the context. If the first woman wasn't the daughter of Archnecromancer Lyrus, she'd eat her crown. Essinya Serriados resembled her mother far more than her father, from what Cyril had told her of the Archnecromancer's late wife.

The man in the second part of her visions in the water - she wasn't sure, but she suspected he was King Gaius Rodela, the recently elected King of South Zarsim. The flag she'd seen burning was the Zarsim flag, and the King of North Zarsim, Tollren Vorel, was too old to be this man.

The last... she wasn't sure, but the bald man with the red mustache on the throne decorated red and brown - the colors of Morvak - had to be Basil VIII Rezan. Which would make the woman she saw likely one of his daughters. He had two, if Vanessa recalled correctly, Regara and Priscilla. But Vanessa could scarcely believe that anyone in Morvak was considering a marriage to her. Such things came with alliances, peace treaties - and Halrun still held the Thornmarch. And Vanessa would never cede that. She'd have riots in the streets if she even considered it.

The rest that she'd seen was likely to be as much symbolic as anything else, representative of far more than she saw, but parsing it all would require more information than she had to hand right now. She started writing it down, to consult with her Council and to ponder on its own.

---

The Estates were no longer in session, and it was neither practical or desirable to call a full session of them again. But there were representatives of them left, still able to be called together, and most of them were authorized proxies of their fellows, to a point. And for something smaller like this, a rationalization of the patchwork of often contradictory laws covering who had the rights to fish, mine and cut timber where, that was perfectly fine.

As with everything else about Halrun, the Kingdom had been welded together in such a way that the laws around cutting timber could be wildly different, at times changing when someone just took a step over a surveyed line drawn on a map decades ago. And as a result, it was quite easy for court cases to spring up when one Lord sold fishing rights to one person, or exercised them themselves (well, through employees or vassals, usually) and then someone crossed a border line. Or a village that did have free timber-cutting rights would accidentally cut a tree that was half through the line on a map and violated some old agreement and edict.

Not every dispute like this ended up in the Courts, any courts, but too many did. And with so many jurisdictional lines crossed, they then found themselves often appealed all the way up to the crown.

Add in three years of civil war only delaying this more, confusion about the surveyed lines and changes wrought by the war, and Vanessa had dreaded holding Court on days when some of these fights finally got to her, as some surely would.

And so, after much debate and concessions with the Estates, she'd managed to talk them into approving a law that essentially allowed for a small 'grace area', where confusion about boundary lines was involved. She'd hoped to essentially streamline all the processes and reduce the patchwork to a handful of standards - she knew one standard was impossible - but she hadn't been able to convince enough representatives of the rural gentry or the conservative nobility to agree with that.

So as it was, the grace area, somewhat nebulous, but still more specific than what had existed, basically said that as long as someone didn't violate boundary lines and extraction rights too much, or too far over the lines, or too often, then a standardized system of resolution would be applied, streamlining any court cases that arose. It would at least reduce some of the legal chaos that could arise in these cases.

[Small Progress made towards eliminating the 'Economic Dislocation' Modifier made. +1 Dureks/month to the Townships and the Lordships each with the positive modifier 'Rationalized Resource Extraction'. Modifier will last for six months]

---

Rienne considered the plans for dealing with bandits drawn up by her generals and other close officers. Trins emphasis on only targeting one at a time had been decided to be the plan. That still left the question of where to focus first, and with what forces, and in what deployments.

Where Do They Focus On Purging Bandits?
[ ][BANDIT TARGET] South Eyrist Country
[ ][BANDIT TARGET] The Lordships (Multiple Phases Required)
[ ][BANDIT TARGET] The Towns (Multiple Phases Required)

Who Commands? (The Other one will Scout)
[ ][BANDIT HUNTER] General Trins (His Trait Grants +5 to Plan Task)
[ ][BANDIT HUNTER] General Darach (Her Trait Reduces Casualties)

(Scouting Base chance is 50% + Martial. Success will increase Base chance of subsequent plan by 8% (Strong Success) or 4% (Weak Success))

What Plan Is Used?
[ ][BANDIT PLAN] Steel Core, Soft Edges (A skirmisher and cavalry-focused plan. Use skirmishers in large detachments to scout and draw out bandit attacks, and then respond with Heavy Cavalry at the core of Light Cavalry forces. Risks high casualties, but has a high chance of putting bandits to the sword with real completeness) [Base Chace 70% + Martial]
[ ][BANDIT PLAN] Mixed Unit Tactics (Three columns of roughly even size and makeup will more or less repeat what was done last month, fanning out, scouting, drawing attention and hunting the Bandits at their camps. Mid-risk of casualties, mid-chance of success) [Base Chance 55% + Martial)
[ ][BANDIT PLAN] Flatten With Force (One Large force of men-at-arms, crossbowmen and Pikeman, supplemented by a smattering of Cavalry (Light and Heavy) and Skirmishers on the fringes. May take longer to find Bandits, as less territory is covered with high concentration. Bandits may also scatter and flee. On the other hand, if Bandits are found in any numbers, they will be overwhelmed easily, and with minimal casualties due to being so overwhelmed) [Base Chance 46% + Martial]

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(1) Varaday Four-Draw is a card game originating in the eponymous republic. It's similar to Poker in the sense that bluffing is a huge part of the game. It's basically the Texas Hold 'em of this setting, though it doesn't really work like that game, but in terms of it's high stakes card gaming status, etc.

There Is No Voting Moratorium. Voting does not have to be by plan (it can be if desired). Vote will end in the evening, Saturday, December 2nd.